Well, I did it. I blinked. Yep, I had been warned not to, multiple times, but, I did it anyway and in the nanoseconds it took me to blink, my boy grew up. Not all the way up. Not so grown that he can vote, order a beer with his grilled cheese sandwich at Red Robin, or fill out a W-2 form, but, grown up enough that there are times I wish I had listened to those doomsdayers and propped my eyelids open so I would not in fact, blink.

"It goes by so fast", people decades older than me would say when they looked longingly at my beautiful little Ryan as a tiny baby. "He will be grown in the blink of an eye", chimed the old folks who wistfully saw their own, now grown baby in the face of my son. "Enjoy them while they are young", they would shout as their own happy memories went careening through their mind in a "blink of an eye".

At the time I thought, "What a bunch of negative naysayers!". However, now, I realize that these folks had already blinked and they saw moments that were still ahead for me, but, were gone for them. So, why not ruin my joy for 10 seconds, right?! Back then, I thought these naysayers were ridiculous. I thought they were exaggerating. I certainly thought that an eye took much longer to blink, than 300-400 milliseconds, but, alas, as usual, this young'in was wrong, and my curmudgeonly, naysaying elders were right. The knew because they had blinked.

Funny thing is, although my heart breaks at the thought of my "babies" growing up and leaving me, through some of Ryan's childhood moments I swear I intentionally blinked rapidly, almost a self defense mechanism that put me and my friend Denial in the dark. I would repeatedly blink...open, shut, open, shut...wanting "this" moment, "this" phase", "this" difficult period to end and move on quickly to the next one. I would blink because I worried about how long "this" phase would last, what others thought when they witnessed "this" phase, and how long good old mom could handle "this" phase before I went through my own phase at a quiet, secluded, heavily medicated, location.

Now, as I look back, and can see for myself how quickly it's all going, I want to super glue my eyelids open. I blink (because my brain tells my eyes to do so) and then I think, WTF?! "WTF", an equally quick, abbreviated acronym that I say quietly inside my head almost as frequently as I blink, but, not nearly as frequently as my sweet little boy, turned teenager says....out loud.

It's true how quickly life passes by and sadly, you can't super glue your eyelids open, you really do have to blink (for a whole host of medical reasons that I can't get into here because I'm too dumb). I swear in this day of modern technology, the blinking has become faster, the pace quicker and the time on hyper-speed, all things my wise elders also warned me about. In this tech savvy day of texting, we are so hurried that in the blink of an eye, we can abbreviate a sentence and eliminate the swear word (WTF, WTH, GTFO, HS). We can shorten a hearty laugh to (LOL, LMFAO) and we can hurriedly abbreviate an expression of love (ILYSM, XOXO). In our attempt to blink quickly and move on, we often don't take the time to really swear when we need to, laugh when we can, and love when we feel it.

If I'm AWEnest, there were many times as we traversed the new, uncharted territory of autism that I did not want to feel so much, and would have loved an abbreviated shortened version of my emotions, but, since texting chat wasn't even known to me, I just tried to blink quickly instead.

Even though Ryan took his good old time when it came to potty training, I couldn't blink fast enough to get through it. The shirt chewing and the remove every tag that could possibly be felt anywhere phase, destroyed many a shirt, so I tried to blink away that phase in order to have a little money left for retirement. The echoing like a parrot phase was so frustrating for both of us because Ryan couldn't communicate what he wanted and so I couldn't determine his needs and this frustration caused warp speed blinking. And although I would not want to relive those phases, I'm now smack down in the middle of the "WTF" stage. Blink, blink, blink, blink.

Back when Ryan refused to go number 2 on the potty, or stop chewing his shirts or only answered my question with my question, all I could think was, "When will this pass?" and "Why can't he be like everyone else?". Maybe not the best Mom of the Year thoughts, but, they were AWEnest thoughts none the less. Now, today, with Ryan's abbreviated, text like teenage language, I got my wish...sort of.

This WTF'ing has been happening as frequently, and as quickly, as a blink of the eye. And if I must say, in a shameful somewhat braggish sort of way, for a boy who sometime struggles with communication and finding the right words, Ryan uses WTF quite appropriately. A dropped Jello Vanilla Pudding on the floor, "WTF?!". A missing homework assignment that is due tomorrow. "WTF? It was right here!" as he scavenges his bedroom in search of the missing paper. A photo of our friends' adorable tiny white dog leaving the groomer with purple chalk colored ears, "WTF happened to Ruby?!" (after a disclaimer that he knows he shouldn't say WTF, but, well, the situation called for it). I guess I should be grateful there is an abbreviated form of swearing that enables my son to follow the rules of not swearing yet still makes him take pride in the fact that he looks and sounds like all the other teenagers.

I've tried to explain to my literal language interpreter that even though he is not actually saying f***, the (F)*** in WTF is implied, therefore, it kind of is like swearing. "No, it's not! I didn't say a swear word!" and technically, literally he didn't....he hasn't.....and chances are....he won't. So, WTF do I do?

I guess instead of going back to my old ways of trying to blink this somewhat uncomfortable (albeit appropriately used and kind of funny) phase away, I need to heed the advice of those older, fun sucking elders of mine and remember that in a "blink of an eye", this stage too will be gone. This moment will pass and one day, I will miss it. I cannot blink slow enough to keep him here, in my home, where he can safely, "WTF?!" all over the place. Rather than blinking, I should prop my eyelids open and watch, mesmerizing in the moment when he is behaving like a "typical" (foul-mouthed) teenager.

With all the blinking I have done over the years, through the good moments and the hard moments, I have never once wanted to blink and open my eyes and find someone who is not Ryan in front of me. Yes, there have been times I wished for more neurotypical behavior and less autism like behavior. And yes, there were times I would blink so slowly in an attempt to shut out the tougher moments altogether. Then, inevitably, I would try and blink away that moment of guilt that engulfed me. Had I only listened, had I only realized how fast a blink was, I would have tried harder to take it all in slowly and never take my eyes off this AWEsome boy.

Now today, I am the decades older, grumpy doomsdayer, elder who snuggles my beautiful great-nephew and warns my big hearted, proud nephew that, "it goes by so fast" and that "in the blink of an eye" this beautiful baby will be crawling...walking...and WTF'ing all over the house, so "enjoy him while he's young". What I didn't say, but, what I thought and wished that someone would have said to me was, no matter where he goes, no matter what path lies ahead for him, on the good days and the bad, don't abbreviate the moment or the emotions, feel it all because "it does go by so fast".

As I handed this sweet baby over, I sniffed his head one last time before releasing him, hugged my proud nephew and his equally proud girlfriend and thought, do not blink it away, because one day, you will wake up and he will be grown and you will be the one thinking, "WTF?!".

A few days ago, I was driving out of our neighborhood and I passed a neighbor boy that is a year older than Ryan. I couldn't help but notice how tall this boy stood walking confidently down the street on his way home from school even as the cold January wind tried to beat him down. I noticed how stylish he looked...khaki pants, shoes that were not sneakers, and hair all gelled and coiffed in the latest Ryan Seacrest kind of cool way. And in that moment, a thought crossed my mind. A thought that a loving mother should not have, should not admit to, and certainly should not blog about for others to read, judge and possibly crucify. As I watched the young teen disappear in my rear view mirror, I thought to myself, "I wonder....".

Those two words are a very slippery slope down a path that leads to nowhere, but Guilt Town, Shameville and Regret City. As I watched this confident, handsome teen stroll down the street looking like some cool, hip, Boy Band member, I couldn't help myself. I felt myself slowly start to slip on that cursed slope and rather than turn around and find a more solid foothold on much sturdier ground, I let my mind wonder and I took off full steam ahead on that damn "don't talk about it, don't think about it, don't wonder about it" slope.

Since I have traveled on this slippery slope before, I knew full well I would wind up face first in the mud with the other mothers visiting Guilt Town. And just like those other mothers (who also occasionally slip) that were staring down at me, mud covering their faces, rather than trying to stop myself from falling, rather than trying to turn my brain around, I let the stifled, repressed "I wonder" thought permeate every cell in my brain for a full five minute (give or take) onslaught of, "I wonder....what Ryan would be like....without autism."

You know the old adage, the old play on words, "Don't wonder too far, you might get lost", well, sometimes, not too often, I do wonder too far and yes, occasionally, I get a little lost.

Sometimes, I wonder, without autism, would Ryan stroll confidently down the street wearing something other than silky track pants and Reebok Ziggs? I wonder, without autism, would Ryan be walking in a group, perhaps another member of the Boy Band, rather than always walking alone? I wonder, without autism, would Ryan text me from school telling me he was getting off at the neighbor boy's bus stop so they could "chill", talk about girls, video games and walk to Wendy's for some fries, an actual real cheeseburger with meat in it, and a Frosty? I wonder, without autism, would Ryan plop next to me on the couch, look at me full on with those beautiful eyes that he so often keeps from me and say, "Hey Mom, how was your day?" and really, truly mean it? I wonder, without autism, would Ryan let me in, I mean all the way in, so I could finally understand what it is that makes Ryan, Ryan?

Yep, before I knew it, I was full steam ahead slipping, sliding and waiting for the mud to hit me in the face and bring me back to reality. For the guilt from Guilt Town, the shame from Shameville and the regret from Regret City all to catch up to me and hit me like a ton of bricks, almost like that third margaritas does, but guess what? It didn't happen. I did not berate myself and feel the need for a quick cup of tea in Guilt Town. I did not have to pull the van over in Shameville so I could dry my tears. I did not have to buy a bottle of wine in Regret City to ease my remorse for allowing myself to wonder..."without autism". Yeah, sure, I may have felt a small twinge of guilt, shame, and regret for just a brief bit of daydreaming, but, over the years I have stopped beating myself up for it since these days I find myself saying, "I wonder" for very different reasons, much more frequently.

When I hear my boy sing so beautifully, sometimes I wonder, without autism would he have such a gift? When I listen to Ryan do the most spot on impersonations of Jim Carrey, Austin Powers, and Stampy, I wonder, without autism, would he be able to mimic those characters so perfectly? When he overcomes obstacles, fears, and hardships with such resilience, I wonder, without autism would he be so strong? When Ryan gives me a hug that nearly knocks me off my feet and a kiss that I feel directly in my soul, I wonder, without autism, would I appreciate his love so much?

So, you see, I think it's okay to wonder...in both directions....and it's okay to occasionally get a little lost. I have learned that wondering what Ryan would be like without autism, is no worse than wondering how much autism has made him who he is today . For the most part, I avoid that slippery, "I wonder" slope altogether, not because I'm afraid of falling in the mud, not because I'm afraid of getting lost, but, because most days, I don't see autism, I just see Ryan, and wondering what Ryan would be like not being Ryan, well, that's much scarier than being lost or stuck in the mud.

There are some parents who say once they heard The A Word for their child, they had to grieve the child they thought they had been given, and I guess I get that. Yes, I cried, I worried, I shouted "Why?". I blamed myself for not seeing "it" sooner. I blamed the flu shot I had before I knew I was pregnant, the asbestos removal at the school where I was employed, the vaccinations I allowed, and all of this lead to many road trips to Guilt Town, Shameville and Regret City, but, I also tried to remember that there are no guarantees and that at any given moment, some mother would give her soul to have what, and more importantly, who I have.

When they place that tiny, squealing baby in your arms, they do not give you a guarantee. There is no money back guarantee that your child will be smart, successful, healthy, happy, popular or a member of a Boy Band. And since there are no guarantees, no crystal ball to predict who he will become, as soon as you look into that tiny face, you immediately start to wonder. You wonder what the future holds for him. You wonder who he will become. You wonder what his life will be like in 5, 10, 20 years, but, one thing you don't wonder about is whether or not you will have what it takes to help him overcome any obstacles that comes his way. In an instant, you know you will do whatever it takes to help him feel safe, loved and happy, even if that does not mean a Boy Band opportunity is part of their future (FYI, since Ryan has such a beautiful voice a member in a Boy Band is a strong possibility).

So yes, sure, sometimes I wonder, "without autism....what, who, and how", and over the years I have come to accept that running down that slippery slope is okay and that it should not be a one way ticket to Guilt Town with a brief layover in Shameville and Regret City. The mother of that handsome, Boy Band looking, young lad who lives down the street wonders the same things that I do, regardless of autism. We both wonder, will they be happy, will they be fulfilled, will they be safe, will they be loved? And although neither of us has been given a guarantee, we both know that while we continue to wonder about tomorrow, we will ensure all those things for today.

And on the rare days, when I wonder too far, when I worry that I may be lost, Ryan's smile, his happiness and his knock me down hugs, are all I need to find my way back again.

In 1968, Aretha Franklin belted out, "R-E-S-P-E-C-T find out what it means to me, R-E-S-P-E-C-T, take care....TCB" and Aretha did indeed Take Care of Business. She earned respect by becoming a voice for the feminist movement, loads of cash for a top charting song, oh, and a little award called a Grammy. Yep, Aretha, you definitely TCB.

When it comes to singing, Ryan may try to hang with Aretha, "just a little bit", but, when it comes to R-E-S-P-E-C-T, especially respect for his little sister Emma, Ryan's got a long way to go before he can claim he is Taking Care of Business. What she wants, I know he's got it. What she needs, I know he's got it, but, when it comes to her askin' for it, Ryan continues to do her wrong.

This past week, I discovered an unopened Christmas present for Ryan that still, three days past New Year's remains unopened under Emma's Christmas tree. A present that Emma is reluctant to give her brother because he very rarely shows her even a little respect and according to her, "I don't think Ryan will even open the present since it's from me and because of Ryan's autism, he doesn't like me very much." My heart sank as I held back the tears and stared at what felt like an ominous gift. This gift, that I knew was a lovingly home made stress ball made of a balloon and flour that Ryan would not appreciate no matter how many hearts were drawn on that beautiful present, suddenly felt like Pandora's Box.

As Emma walked away, I was left alone in her room staring at that lovingly wrapped present feeling another unexpected autism ripple which, if not addressed soon, could most certainly turn into a tsunami. So, I grabbed my life vest, turned on Aretha and steadied myself for this next wave.

I have spent years trying to get others to give Ryan the respect he wants, the respect he needs, that perhaps I was a bit negligent in making Ryan understand that autism is not an excuse for him to not give others respect.

Don't get me wrong, Ryan has good manners, he would never dream of failing to respect a teacher or someone in authority, however, sometimes he struggles to respect those who are different from him. Especially his derpy little sister.

I decided to tackle this R-E-S-P-E-C-T or should I say D-I-S-R-E-S-P-E-C-T, issue just like Aretha, set to a little music while trying to Take Care of Business. It was just the two of us in the car, listening to some tunes on the way home from Ryan's haircut. Ryan was happily humming along and seemed in good space, so I thought it was time for a little chat about respect. I asked Ryan why he is so mean to his sister, why he talks to her in such a rude voice, why he immediately gets up and moves somewhere else when she sits next to him and why he can't seem to give her the respect that he does others, and he very matter-of-factly stated, "because she is so derpy".

For those of you who did not read People Magazine's "Best of 2014" issue, "derp" or "derpy" is "to act a fool" or according to Ryan, "it's slang for stupid". I assured Ryan that his 8 year old sister is not stupid, foolish, or derpy, and tried to convince him that she is funny, kind, and silly. "Well, you know I don't enjoy silliness and I don't have time for it in my life. Not to mention, I would be a lot nicer to her if she wasn't such an embarrassment to me." And there it was, my 1.3 millionth "ah-hah" moment. I realized in that moment, that in all my efforts of trying to get others to believe, "different, not less" when it came to Ryan, I failed to teach him that very vital lesson. And for a boy who sees the world in a very literal, very concrete, very "his" way, I understood the challenge that stood before me. Ryan needed to understand that everyone, regardless of their level of "derpiness", or their degree of embarrassing behavior, all deserve respect..."just a little bit".

There are times along this autism journey where I have spent hours agonizing over some issue. I research it to death, analyze it, discuss it with every person who isn't tired of hearing me talk about it, and other times, I just go with my gut. My gut has lead me astray from time to time, but, other times, my gut has been spot on. (Ryan would tell me that my "gut" has nothing to do with thinking and that I am a totally derpy for even suggesting such a thing).

I went with my gut, but, I tried to tread lightly. "You know Ryan, there are times when you mimic characters from television shows, video games, and YouTube accounts and you make funny faces when you think about those characters, faces and sounds that Emma could say is embarrassing, but, rather than be embarrassed by your behavior, Emma smiles, accepts, loves and respects you just like you are (this is when the road became blurry through my tear streaked sunglasses)." I told Ryan he may "not have time" for Emma's silly behavior, behavior that he sees as embarrassing, derpy, and different from his own, but, he still has to be kind to her, and treat her with R-E-S-P-E-C-T, otherwise, Mom is gonna start TCB, and when that Taking Care of Business results in loss of electronic devices, he is not going to be happy.

Ryan sat in silence, looking out the window. The humming had stopped. I knew then that he heard me, but, whether he understood me was questionable. It's hard for Ryan to understand the world of social nuances, so in his mind, I don't believe he thinks he is disrespectful to his sister, in his mind, she has not behaved in a way that warrants his respect, so, he has not given it to her...yet.

As the silence continued, I worried if I had gone too far. If my gut had lead me astray again. Did I hurt him by using examples of his very autismy-like behavior, or was I successful because that was a very clear, and concrete example? The kind of example Ryan needs to process information. I guess time will tell, but, I can say, over the past few days, Ryan has been a bit kinder, seemingly showing some respect (just a little bit), when it comes to his little sister.

The irony of all this R-E-S-P-E-C-T is not lost on me. This mother who blogs, advocates, educates and screams from the rooftops, "different, not less" missed teaching the one person who needs more coaching, more understanding, and more patience for those he perceives as different from him, those who do not think, act and behave the way he does. Guess that makes me the derpy one.

What she wants, I know he's got it, what she needs, I know he's got it, and if he can give her a little R-E-S-P-E-C-T (just a little bit), by trying to find out what it means to her, I don't think he will ever walk in and find her gone...even when she acts a little derpy.

Ryan does seem to have R-E-S-P-E-C-T for Emma's Minecrafting abilities (just a little bit).

Author

Definition of Awe:"a mixed emotion of reverence, respect, dread and wonder inspired by authority, genius, great beauty, sublimity or might." Yep, someone should have consulted a mom before spelling AWEtis﻿m.